


A Routine Mission

by Anonymous



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Sex, Drugged Sex, Kink Meme, Lingerie, Other, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A routine diplomatic mission for Sam and Vala turns weird. “Sam resolved that the details of this were NOT going down in her post-mission report.”





	A Routine Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the LoMo crowd on Terrafirmascapers for making tentacles seem a normal thing to write about. I dedicate this to you. ;)
> 
> Written for the SG KinkMeme Round 1 challenge Sam/Vala Tentacle Sex. Caveat lector. What else is there to say?
> 
> SGKinkMod - please attribute to A Damned Scientist

 

 “So does this mean I can wear what I like?” Vala pestered Sam with almost childlike enthusiasm, skipping down the corridor beside her as they walked from the briefing room towards quarters.

“I guess so,” Sam tried not to smile indulgently. “Although it’s a diplomatic trip so, as a representative of the US government, I’ll have to wear my dress blues.”

“Yes!” Vala gleefully replied as they entered the lift, startling the airman who was already inside.

“Just show a little decorum in what you wear, remember: Official business and all that,” Sam smiled indulgently, hoping Vala kept her exuberance turned down low. Just so long as she didn’t misbehave. It was, after all, just a low risk routine mission: Fourth contact with a civilised, friendly culture on a planet which seemed to call itself Venusia. A routine mission, the purpose of which was to open trade talks. As the SG1 boys were all busy, Vala was Sam’s choice of travelling companion. Strictly speaking, Vala’s skill sets were likely to be completely superfluous, but Sam had decided to bring her along for the company and for another pair of eyes and ears. Otherwise it promised to be a dull few days, all on her own and on best behaviour.

Half an hour later they reconvened in the gate room: Sam in her dress blues of skirt, shirt, jacket and sensible-heeled black shoes, and Vala – oh my, what WAS she wearing?

“We’re off to talk trade, not go on the pull,” Sam teased good naturedly, taking in Vala’s short skirt, tight top and long, leather boots

“Speak for yourself,” Vala winked coquettishly.

“Morphologically, everyone the previous missions encountered was a humanoid female, so unless you’re planning…?” Sam joked as they made the gate address was dialled in.

“I’m broad minded,” Vala winked back. “I’d even consider a nice tentacle beast if they bought me dinner first.” She announced, leaving Sam wide-mouthed and speechless, as she lifter her chin high, tossed one end of her quite unnecessary scarf across her shoulder and strode up the walkway towards the gate. Sam sighed, her feelings more indulgence of a precocious child than true disapproval, and followed her.

‘~’

Legate Palmyra met them with a smile and a small retinue of flunkies. As expected, as advised by Sam, all of them seemed to be female.

“Two of you?” Palmyra smiled broadly and extended a greeting, two-cheeked kiss to them both. That was a good sign, Vala was sure. “Well, I am sure the Master will be quite happy to entertain two petitioners.”

“This Master?” Sam enquired. “So, there are males on your planet? Who exactly is…?”

“He is not like us. He is our spiritual leader but not our temporal leader. It is a formality in our culture to please him with a petition before embarking on any enterprise of significance,” Palmyra sort of explained.

“You say he,” Vala enquired. “But I haven’t seen any males since I got here.”

Palmyra merely smiled beatifically. “Once you have petitioned The Master you will understand. Come, it is time to proceed to where we will conduct our negotiations. We have refreshments waiting for you,” She continued, changing the subject as she indicated that they should take a short walk across the platform from the Stargate and to where some sort of monorail transport was waiting.

The Legate made bland diplomatic chit chat as she escorted Vala and Sam on a fifteen minute journey in an elevated transport tube, which wound its way at high speed across the futuristic and gleaming city. Soon they found themselves shown into a large, impressive and somewhat older-looking building and then on to a luxuriously appointed conference room, which was half filled by a large, polished wooden table.

“So, is this where we will conduct talks?” Sam asked as she accepted a vividly coloured drink from a flunky. Vala felt like a spare part, but accepted a bright orange drink with little fruits around the edge of the glass, smiled happily at the various Venusians and tried not to give the impression that she was just here as a tourist. The drink was really rather tasty. She took a bigger gulp. Tasty and…  relaxing, almost, but not quite, like an alcoholic cocktail. She wondered what was in it.

“Indeed. But first protocol dictates that the Master hear your petitions,” the Legate smiled broadly. The drink really was rather nice. Vala took a bigger mouthful, almost draining her glass.

“Fine,” Sam replied with a can-do smile as she sipped from her own juice. “Is there anything particular that you can tell us about this petitioning thing?”

“Protocol dictates that we cannot advise you, beyond stating that you may find his appearance somewhat alien to you, but we hope not unappealing,” Palmyra shook her head with a disarming smile. “But don’t worry, the Master will make it clear what he wants. And the Bantha fruit juice has a relaxing effect, so you should not find it too onerous. Indeed, most of our people find the experience of Petitioning to be quite enjoyable. ”

Before Vala could ask for details of what and why exactly they needed a relaxing drink, a flunky approached Palmyra and whispered something which Vala didn’t quite catch. She didn’t have long to wait to find out what was said.

“The Master is ready for your petitions now,” Palmyra smiled at them. “If you will follow me?”

Palmyra escorted Sam and Vala down another short, now ornately decorated corridor, explaining further details as they went: “I will not be accompanying you into the audience chamber, but the Master will let us know when he is satisfied with your petitions. It’s all really just a formality – he doesn’t involve himself in our day to day governance. I shall be waiting outside.”

Sam nodded. Well, if Sam was fine with it all, Vala was just along for the ride she told herself as they reached a massive elaborately carved pair of wooden doors.

“I will be leaving you here,” Vala heard Palmyra explain as Vala tried to take in the weird, bacchanalian scenes depicted in the door carvings. She didn’t have long to do so, however.

“Thank you,” Sam replied as hidden mechanisms opened the doors far enough for Vala and Sam to step through.

Beyond was a large chamber, whose size was indeterminate because it seemed organic, like it was grown more than made and was comprised of some sort of wooden plant matter. A diffuse but more than adequate illumination came from sources or sources unknown.  It looked rather like a forest from some sort of fantasy show or book.

Sam had already taken half a dozen steps inside, stepping over the odd tendril on the floor with her black high heels. Not wishing to risk a diplomatic incident by asking questions which Palmyra seemed disinclined to answer, Vala followed, taking similar care not to crush any of the organic-looking limbs beneath her own heavier boots. As they moved deeper, the vegetation got thicker. Vala reckoned they wouldn’t be able to go far.

“Good luck! And may your petitions be filled with joy and pleasure!” Vala heard Palmyra wish them just before the heavy doors closed firmly behind them.

 “Weird. So, where is this Master guy, do you reckon?” Vala hissed, catching up with Sam about fifteen feet into the room.

“I guess we will find out?” Sam grinned at her. “C’mon.” she added stepping inwards towards what looked like a giant tree trunk, maybe thirty feet dead ahead, careful not to step on any of the increasing number of tendrils they had to step over as they ventured deeper. Some were finger-thick, some thicker than arms. They seemed to get thicker the deeper they were into the chamber. Vala shrugged and followed her.

There was still no sign of anyone by the time they stood before the trunk. Vala took a deep breath, taking in the organic scent of the room. Sort of earth, with a strong hint of male musk. It was odd, but not unpleasant.

“Guess we have to make the first move?” Vala suggested. Sam nodded.

“Master, My name is Colonel Samantha Carter,” there was a faint rustling sound from somewhere indeterminate nearby. “And this is Vala Mal Doran.” More rustles sounded. Vala looked around her to see that one or two of the tendrils around them, both on the floor and those that were more upright, seemed to be stirring. “We have come to petition you on behalf of our people, the T’Auri.” Vala noticed Sam pause, frown and look down: a couple of smaller tendrils seemed to be snaking, looping around her ankles. The Colonel took a deep breath, looked back up and continued, addressing the room in a confident, clear voice. “We have come to petition your permission to negotiate trading terms…”

Vala now felt something at her own ankles, despite the thickness of her boots: she looked down to see tendrils twinning round her ankles, already moving up towards her calves.

“You have asked for the ceremony of petition.” A deep sonorous, male voice filled the chamber, announcing: “Your worthiness as petitioners will now be assessed!”

“Hey!” Sam suddenly protested in a startled and annoyed tone. “What the heck…!?”

Vala glanced across to her companion: branches were now snaking past her knees with more rapidity and purpose, already moving beneath the hem of her skirt. Sam brushed the first away but another, thicker one was already snaking across her right knee, heading upwards. Meanwhile other tentacles were now wafting around Sam, rising from the floor or dropping from above.

“I… don’t…” Vala began to express her growing sense of unease to Sam as she felt a small tendril trying to snag her right wrist. “Sam, I think we oughta go!” She brushed the branch off her wrist, but half a dozen more were just behind it.

Sam nodded her agreement, her own unease writ large on her face. Both women tried to turn, but found themselves rooted to the spot, held fast by the snake-like protuberances now wrapped around all four of their legs.

Vala grunted and tried to pry the largest tentacle, as thick as her own arm, off her right leg, while trying to avoid the smaller limbs now clearly trying to capture her wrists.

“Sam, I can’t shift this..!” she cried out, her panic and annoyance showing in her voice. Palmyra had assured them that the experience should be enjoyable, but so far it was just a little creepy.

“Get off! No!” was all she heard from Sam by way of reply. At that moment, a greenish tendril, twice as thick as her thumb, snapped and snaked it’s way around her left wrist, holding it fast! And as it did so, she felt another, she was not sure of its thickness, wriggling across her knee and up her inner thigh. She tried to beat it back with her right hand, only to grant yet another tentacle the opportunity it needed to seize her one remaining free limb.

Vala tugged each limb, trying to free it, but she was helpless. Held fast. Unable now to stop the tentacle sliding up her thigh, or the one circling her boobs. Or the one slipping under her shirt.

The tentacle creeping up her leg reached the top of her thigh and the tip began to explore: thank heavens she was wearing both panties and pantyhose, she tried to reassure herself, ever as the tip of the tendril made her body shiver and writhe with its apparent attempts to find an opening in her clothing in the vicinity of her the tops of her legs. It certainly seemed to have no boundaries as to which areas of her body were out of bounds!

“Stop! MMfff” Vala heard Sam’s protests cut off and she spared a glance across towards her teammate: Vala’s hopes that her hose and underwear would protect her Crumbled a little at the sight that greeted her eyes:

Sam’s face was covered by a couple of exploring tendrils, which were now muffling her cries, and the Colonel was being held aloft, a foot or so off the ground and at a growing angle towards the horizontal. Smaller tentacles were pushing her dress blues skirt up her thighs, to the point where Vala could have sworn she saw a hint of stocking top. Meanwhile others were busy in the process of pulling open Sam’s jacket and shirt.  As Vala watched, horrified yet fascinated, an unmistakable ripping sound marked Sam’s skirt being pulled apart at the seam between its rear calf-split and the zipper which ran down from the waistband. The torn skirt fell away to reveal the full glory of the lacy tops of Sam’s cream-coloured hold-ups and her cornflour blue lace panties. So that was what dress blues meant, Vala found herself thinking.

But Vala had little more time to spare in considering Sam’s predicament: She too had now been hoisted aloft and was almost immediately being borne the few feet across the gap towards the upright trunk. Other tendrils had joined the one trying to find a way into her pantyhose, while she could feel yet more now tugging at her blouse and snaking in between the buttons – one seemed to settle on her nipple, ill hidden beneath her black bra, and was starting to tweak and stroke. She suspected her outer garments would soon go the way of Sam’s, as there seemed little she could do to prevent it.

No sooner did the thought cross her mind than it was punctuated by the sound of button-thread giving up the ghost: Vala writhed, helpless, as she felt her blouse being ripped apart. Not that that was half as terrifyingly erotic as the sensation of two, pinky-thin-feeling tendrils snagging the gusset of her pantyhose and ripping it open.

‘~’

“You have asked for the ceremony of petition.” Sam listened to the deep, sonorous, male voice announce. “Your worthiness as petitioners will now be assessed!” Well, whatever it was, she guessed they’d soon be finding out.

Just then she felt something wrap around each of her ankles and twine, snake like, further upwards, encircling her calves as it did so. “Hey!” Sam protested, glancing down to see a pair of thick organic-looking tendrils snake around her legs, while another, thinner one seemed to be making a more rapid beeline straight up her leg. “What the heck…!?”

Sam brushed away the tendril on her leg, but another, thicker one was already snaking across her right knee, heading relentlessly upwards. Meanwhile other tentacles were wafting around Sam, rising from the floor or dropping from above.

 “Sam, I think we oughta go!” Sam heard Vala exclaim. Sam was in total agreement. Unfortunately, she found that she was now rooted to the spot. What was worse, her attempts to brush off the tendrils heading up under her skirt had allowed other to seize her arms. She struggled and strained, but to no avail: The tentacles lifted her and began to bear her towards the central trunk. Meanwhile a number of tentacles had now snaked beneath her skirt and had pushed the tight garment over her knees and some way up her thighs. Sam bucked, trying to free herself as she felt one tentacle reach the top of her thigh, where it seemed intent on pushing clean through the lace of her panties and into her pussy!

“Stop thi…!” she started to protest, but just then other tentacles swarmed across her face, muffling further protest.

The tentacle at her pussy pushed harder and deeper, taking no time to wine, dine or take her to the cinema – she could feel its hot bulk forcing entry into her vestibule, pushing her panties in with it. Even as it did so she could feel her skirt being torn from hem-split to waistband zipper and her jacket and blouse being pulled apart and off of her.

Helpless, she could only take stock as a tentacle snaked between her lips, trying to enter her mouth, while other tendrils, ignoring the thin lace cups of her bra, latched on to her nipples with formidable suction , and still others stroked and caressed what seemed like every inch of her body. It would have been sensuous, or even funny, if it wasn’t so unsolicited and done without her consent.

Then she felt the tentacle in the mouth of her pussy rip through the lace of her panties and slither into her, pulsating and growing thicker and thicker as it gained inch after inch. Merciless, the member pushed deeper and deeper, seeming to grow more massive with every pulsation and every inch gained. The remains of her panties still seem wrapped around it at her entrance, and so as it moved inwards, the fabric was pulled ever tighter against her throbbing clit. Fortunately, she surmised, whatever was in the Banthaa juice served to loosen her up and transform pain into pleasure.  Sam was left in no doubt that her body was thoroughly enjoying itself when it treated her to her first shuddering orgasm.

As Sam cried out in pained pleasure, the tentacle in her mouth was joined by another, and together they held her jaws apart. Within an instant a distinctly phallic looking tentacle passed the edge of her vision and then plunged into her mouth, filling it with its hardness and slightly salty taste, heading for the back of her throat. Once there, it pushed in further, paying no heed to Sam or her need to breath.

Sam could scarcely process it all: she was being held fast while tentacles fucked her throat and pussy, and others made free with her legs, her boobs her… Oh my! Something was pushing past the string back of her thong and was….  If she could have cried out, she would, as a third phallus slid between her buttocks cheeks. It paused for a moment, maybe to orient itself, then entered her, slithering in, deeper and deeper, growing thicker and stretching her once it had gained entry. Sam was transfixed as the tentacle at the top of her throat and the one up her ass joined with the one up her pussy in fucking her.

Held firmly aloft, Sam could do nothing but endure, although her body clearly had other ideas: Her first orgasm shook her, and she felt more that plenty more were to come. That Banthaa juice was strong stuff!

And cum she did. Over and over, losing complete track both of time or the number of times she came.

As yet another wave of electric sensations subsided, Sam caught sight of Vala: her raven haired  companion was only feet away, and seemed to have met a similar fate: half her clothes had been torn away by the mass of tentacles that held and writhed across her body, while a trio of phalluses pounded relentlessly at each of her orifices, not letting up even though the poor woman was clearly in the throes of non-consensual orgasm.

Sam’s eyes caught Vala’s seeing her own helplessness and arousal reflected there. She resolved that the details of this were NOT going down in her post-mission report.

And then Sam came again, so hard this time that stars flashed before her eyes.

‘~’

As Vala reached the trunk and was lain down on it at an angle just off the horizontal, more and more tendrils swarmed across her: Her shirt was long gone, her short skirt, now it was bunched up around her waist, was largely ignored. The tentacles were clearly intent on other things. Vala felt the cups of her bra pushed aside by stroking tendrils, while ones capable of suction latched on to her nipples. Meanwhile, the gap torn in her pantyhose was exploited by other tentacles: she felt her panties pushed aside and thin, strong tendrils stroked clit, slit and…  oh my God, Vala gasped, as a slippery example slithered between her ass cheeks and gave an exploratory push at her ring.

Twisting her head to look down, she almost wished she hadn’t. An unmistakably phallic tentacle, as thick as a man’s forearm, was rearing up between her legs, clearly lining itself up for once the smaller tendrils had sufficiently prepared her.

She could tell her pussy was soaking. She could tell her pussy lips were parted – the smaller tentacles had seen to that. She had no option but to watch in fascination, excitement, anticipation and horror as the giant phallus began to edge towards her. Yet, oddly, she didn’t feel too concerned. Exhalted, really. It must have been that juice they’d given them – it must have been laced with some sort of aphrodisiac and relaxant.

And then suddenly Vala’s vision was blocked, her head forced back: Another, slightly smaller but still large and clearly phallic tentacle had appeared, pushing against her mouth, it’s musky fragrance wafting up her flaring nostrils, filling her hindbrain with animal lust. For a few seconds she held out defiantly, clenching her teeth, until she felt smaller tendrils trying to prize her mouth open and pinch her nose. Fearful of what would happen if she continued to deny it access, she opened her mouth.

And was simultaneously penetrated in ass, mouth and pussy. Vala’s body shuddered, betraying her as she came on the spot.

The tentacles, however, seemed indifferent to her climax. They drove deep into her orifices, growing and pulsing as they went. Once they reached the natural stops of the back of her throat and her cervix then all three halted. For a second or two Vala gagged and struggled to breathe. And then they began to mercilessly pump her.

Vala had never experienced anything like it, even during her time as a Goa’uld host and lover to that degenerate, Ba’al. Her walls clenched and unclenched against the unprecedentedly huge cock pounding her pussy, her ass was being filled and pumped with something which could surely have never gained ingress at the size it had now grown to be while her throat…  if it had not been for the effects of the Banthaa juice Vala doubted she could have coped with the phallus now thrusting deep in her throat.

After what seemed like an eternity of sexual degradation, humiliation and stimulation, Vala felt herself being turned on one side, and opened her eyes to see Sam, similarly entangled and penetrated, dressed now only in her hold-ups, one remaining black high heel, her half removed cornflower blue bra and her panties, which were now seemingly impaled on the preposterously huge pseudo-cock thrusting in and out of her pussy. Sam’s body writhed, squirmed and shuddered, clearly wracked by an almost continuous series of involuntary climaxes. Vala caught Sam’s eye and from the horrified look she returned she guessed that she looked much the same to Sam.

Then Vala’s whole body shook with a squirting, multiple orgasm. That seemed to be the cue for numerous secondary tentacles hovering over both her and Sam to spurt pint after pint of warm, sticky liquid from their tips. Within seconds Vala was coated from head to toe. Her vision obscured, she was unable to observe the extent to which Sam was similarly showered.

Vala felt sure that it was cum which had surged all over her, but not nearly so sure as she was that the warm, thick salty eruptions that, a few seconds later filled her mouth, ass and pussy were also cum. A further, final wave of climaxes wracked her as the phalluses, presumably now sated, slowly eased their fucking.

Finally, and after what seemed like an eternity, the tentacles withdrew. Vala found herself lying on the floor, barely able to move, barely able to process what had just happened to her.

As Vala struggled to clear enough of the cum from her mouth and throat to breathe, she heard Sam coughing briefly before the sonorous male voice drowned out all other noise, announcing: “Your petition to open trade negotiations has been accepted.” Vala wiped cum from her eyes and saw Sam nearby, in a similar state to how she imagined that she looked: like some sort of ‘after’ image in a ridiculous Manga cartoon. “A further petition will be required at the conclusion of your talks.”     

Vala’s ears could scarcely believe what she was hearing: surely they wouldn’t be expected to go through this again before leaving Venusia?

Except…  maybe… she was now feeling quite euphoric and light headed… maybe it would be interesting to have another go?

“You OK?” Sam asked. Vala had to spit out a last mouthful of cum before she could even think of replying.

“I guess,” Vala replied. Covered with cum, and dripping more from every orifice, Sam stood and held out a hand to help Vala to her feet.  “Although I might have trouble walking for a week or so.”

“Come on, let’s get outa here,” Sam added, nodding her agreement.

“At least until we get the negotiations finished,” Vala added, noticing the way Sam coyly bit her bottom lip, as though she, too, secretly quite fancied a second go at being tentacle-fucked by The Master.

Seconds later the doors opened and Sam and Vala staggered, arm in arm, out into the sanity of the corridor.  

Palmyra greeted them with a smile and two towelling robes.

“We have prepared quarters and replacement facsimiles of your clothing for you, just a very short walk away. You will be able to clean up and get dressed. But first: Congratulations, I am sure you were pleased to hear that your petition to negotiate a trade agreement with Venusia was successful. So successful that the Master has requested a swift and mutually beneficial conclusion to this round of talks!”

Vala stared at her, slack jawed with disbelief.

“The things I do for Uncle Sam,” Sam muttered as she took the offered robe while Vala, for once, kept her thoughts to herself.

 

The end.


End file.
